“_You do it_. I told you last night: call Meg and tell her I said she should stake you. You want to end up dead for resisting arrest some goddamn night when you think they’ve forgotten about it?”
Side 110
Ellroy – White Jazz
“No, I don’t think I do. Say, Mr. Klein, I never thought I’d see the day Mr.
Smith gave me a break.”
I winked a la Dudley. “He likes my style, lad.”
Lester strolled back to his bottle. The director fisheyed me–I strolled to the trailer, nonchalant.
Glenda was reading my note. “David, this could kill–I mean _ruin_ me in the film business.”
“We have to give them something. If they believe it, they won’t press theft charges. And it diverts attention from the actress pads.”
“There’s been nothing on TV or in the papers.”
“The more time goes by, the better. Hughes might report him missing, and the body will be found sooner or later. Either way, we might or might not be questioned. I had words with him, so I’m more likely to be a pro forma suspect.
I can handle it, and I know you can handle it. We’re. . . oh shit.”
“We’re _professionals?_”
“Don’t be so cruel, it’s too early.”
She took my hands. “When can _we_ go public?”
“We may have already. I shouldn’t have stayed so late, and we should probably cool things for a while.”
“Until when?”
“Until we’re cleared on Miciak.”
“That’s the first time we’ve said his name.”
“We haven’t really talked about it at all.”
“No, we’ve been too busy sharing secrets. What about alibis?”
“For up to two weeks you were home alone. After two weeks you don’t remember–nobody remembers that long.”
“There’s something else bothering you. I could tell last night.”
Neck prickles–I blurted it. “It’s the Kafesjian job. I was questioning a girl who knows Tommy K., and she said Lucille did call jobs for Doug Ancelet.”
“I don’t think I knew her. The girls never used their real names, and if I knew someone similar to the way you described her, I would have told you. Are you going to question him?”
“Yeah, today.”
“When did she work for Doug?”
“_Doug?_”
Glenda laughed. “_I_ worked for Doug briefly, after the Gilette thing, and you’re disturbed that I used to do what I did.”
“No–I just don’t want you connected to any of this.”
Lacing our fingers–“I’m not, except that I’m connected to you”– squeezing tighter–“So _go_. It’s Premier Escorts, 481 South Rodeo, next to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.”
I kissed her. “You make things worse, then you make them better.”
Side 111
Ellroy – White Jazz
“No, it’s just that you like your trouble in smaller doses.”
“You’ve got me.”
“I’m not so sure. And be careful with Doug. He used to pay off the Beverly Hills Police.”
I walked–lightheaded. Lester serenaded winos by the spaceship– “Harbor Lights”–the gap-toothed version.
* * *
Phone news:
Woods spotted Junior in Darktown–then lost him running a red light.
Jack–irked, going back out: “It looks like he’s living in his car. He had his badge pinned to his coat, like he’s a fucking Wild West sheriff, and I saw him buying gas with two big automatics shoved down his pants.”
Bad, but:
He hit box 5841-check under his doormat, grab the key, check his mail slot.
“Four envelopes, Dave. Jesus, I thought you were sending me after jewels or something. And you owe me-”
I hung up and drove over. There: the key, the slot, four letters. Back to my car–Champ Dineen mail.
Two letters sealed, two slit. I opened the sealed ones–both from _Transom_ to Champ–recent postmarks. Inside: fifty-dollar bills, notes: “Champ–Thanx mucho, Harris”; “Champ–Thanx, man!”
Two slit–left for safekeeping?–no return address, Christmas ’57 postmarks.
Eleven months P0 box stashed–why?
December 17, 1957
My Dear Son,
I am so sad to be apart from you this holiday season. Circumstances have not been kind in the keeping us together department for several years now. The others of course do not miss you the way I do, which makes me miss you more and makes me miss the pretend happy family that we once had years ago.